


In the Arms of Morpheus

by MrsHamill



Series: Sandman Crossover Project [2]
Category: The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Multiple Crossovers, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 21:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6026317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Arms of Morpheus

**Author's Note:**

> Qui-Gon meets Dream; the story that began it all.

* * *

The pain was unimaginable.

Qui-Gon's mouth opened in a silent scream as his enemy backed away, withdrawing the red blade, confident Qui-Gon was no longer a threat. Poised, for an instant, on unsteady legs, Qui-Gon finally toppled, falling to his knees then to the floor, his extinguished lightsaber falling next to him. 

He could hear his padawan's scream echoing in the reactor chamber.

He could hear the Sith's booted heels as he paced back and forth, waiting for the force fields to cycle.

He could hear his own heart stutter, damaged, his lung burned out, the muscles in his back spasming.

He could hear the force fields cycle and the clash of blades.

He closed his eyes.

* * *

The wind felt so fresh and clear, tangy with the scent of flowers and blossoming trees. He looked around the peaceful glade and smiled. A movement caught his eye and he looked down at a small quadruped sniffing his boots curiously, unafraid. 

Sinking to his knees, cushioned by the deep, soft grasses, he breathed deeply and let the Force fill him. The sun was on his back, warming him, and the breeze played with his hair, cooling him. He would have liked to meditate, but he felt too peaceful. Almost too peaceful. 

There was a niggling worry in the back of his brain, one he couldn't ignore, one he couldn't describe. He knew it had something to do with his padawan, but he couldn't quite remember...

"Obi-Wan?" he called, hesitantly.

"He is not here."

He turned to see a tall man wearing curious black clothing. His hair was dark as his face was pale, and his eyes carried stars. "Who are you?" he asked, unafraid and uncertain why.

"You wander in my realm, Jedi. If you concentrate, you'll know who I am."

As if from far, far away, he heard the clash of lightsabers, and memory flashed back into his brain, along with agony. "Obi-Wan!" He looked around wildly. "Where am I?" A horrible thought occurred to him and he looked again at the strange man. "You... Are you..."

"No, that is my sister." The man's voice was curiously accented, remote, disaffected.

"Then..." If not death, then... "I left my padawan fighting something I'm not sure he can defeat alone. I need to help him. How can I help him?"

The man studied him. "I cannot answer that question for you, Jedi. You put yourself into this situation, by your actions, by your words. You are the only one who can find the right path out of it."

Tears suddenly clogged his throat, keeping him from breathing in fiery pain. "I hurt him," he said, looking down at his hands. Such big, strong hands, capable of so much. "I didn't mean to hurt him, but I did. I realized it the moment I said the words." He looked up. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

"Probably." The man tucked his arms into the pockets of his cloak. "I'm not sure why she hasn't come for you, why she allowed you to walk here, first. But then, she has always tried to do the unpredictable thing." He smiled coldly, his eyes far away.

"I should be composed, I should be ready to join the Force, because there is no death..."

"I wouldn't say that to my sister, if I were you." Yes, there was a definite spark of something, some strange emotion, in those deep eyes. 

Making a sudden decision, he looked up. "I don't want to die. I'm not ready to join the Force. Not yet. There's too much else to do. Anakin, he must be trained. This creature who tried to kill me is a Sith, I know it, and that means... that means..."

"An enemy is an enemy." Glancing up, he found himself caught in the strange man's eyes. "Sith, Commie, Zulu, Neandertal. Only the appellation is different. Your enemy, one you thought extinct, lives. He lives, you die, he dies, you live, you both die, you both live. It is not so much a choice as a path in the garden of Destiny. Your path may or may not be yours to choose." There was a sudden gust, carrying with it sounds of battle. 

Frustrated, he looked about wildly, realizing his 'saber was no longer in his hand or on his belt. "My 'saber. He'll need it." 

"Then give it to him."

"If I do, will I die?"

The stranger shrugged. "That, I do not know. It is up to my sister to decide. And even she bows to our eldest brother." His lips turned up in a wry smile. "Though 'bow' may not be the right word."

"I can choose, though. I can, can't I? I can choose to help Obi-Wan, to live, to train Anakin and see to it that he remains in the light."

"You can try."

"Master Yoda says there is no try." He chuckled painfully -- it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe and the hole in his chest burned like acid. He swallowed, an effort, then took a breath that tasted of fire.  "I do not choose to join the Force at this time. I choose to live."

The other man's eyebrows lifted. "It is not my place to accede to your choice, but I respect it. You are a strong dreamer, Jedi, but not as strong as your padawan." He studied the Jedi master carefully, looking all the way down, inside, right down to his long-suppressed hopes and fears, desires and despairs. "If it is within my power, I will intervene for you with my sister. I do believe she just might owe me one."

Qui-Gon Jinn blinked in confusion, then doubled over in pain, gasping. He was peripherally aware of the beautiful glade fading from view, being replaced by the power core, by the sounds of a battle, by the scents of burned flesh and sweat and tears.

Suddenly, the lightsaber next to him flew away and he heard its deadly hum add to the mess of noises. Then Obi-Wan was there, tenderly lifting his head, tears mingling with sweat on his face. "It's... it's..." Qui-Gon couldn't get the words out.

"Master! Master! Thank the Force, you're still alive..."

"It's..." What words did he need to say? "It's not too late... I choose..." He touched the tears on Obi-Wan's face. "I choose..."

end


End file.
